<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Scubadude on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/scubadude/</link><description>Recent content in Scubadude on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 30 May 2026 20:13:46 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/scubadude/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Rubber Breathing Therapy 2</title><link>/stories/2011/09/13/rubber-breathing-therapy-2/</link><pubDate>Tue, 13 Sep 2011 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2011/09/13/rubber-breathing-therapy-2/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;continues from &lt;a href="rubberbreathingtherapy.html"&gt;part one&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Rubber Breathing Therapy Continues&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I could hear myself breathing I was beginning to regain consciousness, I was totally relaxed, a relaxed and calm state that I had never experienced before. The sound of my breathing was intense, I attempted to open my eyes they felt like ton weights and I struggling to focus. I was lying in a hospital bed, I groped at the bed sheets and realised they were made of rubber, I lifted my hand to my face and cupped the oxygen mask I was wearing. I tried hard to focus. I could see curtains drawn all around the bed, I concentrated straining my eyes, they too were made of rubber. Suddenly memories came flooding back, the overwhelming feeling of being suffocated. I began gasping for air, in the panic I unnoticeably pulled the rubber bed sheets over my face. The rubber sheet sucked against the oxygen mask smothering me. “Nurse!” I shouted out in a blind panic.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Rubber Breathing Therapy</title><link>/stories/2011/08/07/rubber-breathing-therapy/</link><pubDate>Sun, 07 Aug 2011 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2011/08/07/rubber-breathing-therapy/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;I sat there staring, out of focus, almost subconsciously at the line of traffic in front of me, the same line of traffic I stare at every single day. Sometimes I even think the queuing order of the cars is the same. I recognise number plates and silent strangers also sitting, staring into oblivion, inching along to their mundane 9 to 5’s. I sit there, I feel other drivers cursing me, jealous of me, jealous of the fact that I am sitting in the same queue inching along but I have a better badge staring at them. The badge stares at me from the steering wheel, a badge that the dealer said “would make driving a pleasure“, costing as much as an average mortgage I had high expectations. Do I move any quicker? No. Did it make me feel any better? No. The only thing it gave me is hatred and envy from others for owning this badge. I began to wonder if this was it, was this what life was all about?&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Vacuum Balloon</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/vacuum-balloon/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/vacuum-balloon/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;We had both been working hard all week so we decided that we would
spend the whole weekend in rubber. Sarah was feeling pretty hot and couldn&amp;rsquo;t
stop playing with a latex surgical glove she had in her hands. She ran
it though her fingers then pulled it over her hand, stretching it down
to as far as her elbow - then Snap! She let it go and it shot back to her
wrist. The glove moulded to her hand like a second skin, coating it in
shiny translucent latex. Then she looked up. I&amp;rsquo;ve seen that look in her
eyes before&amp;hellip; and I know I&amp;rsquo;m in for a treat! I wondered what she had in
mind?&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>